


A Whimper

by InkedConstellations



Series: 23 Emotions Challenge [9]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, Clinging to the Past, Gen, History, Inspired by Poetry, No happy endings, wandering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5153111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkedConstellations/pseuds/InkedConstellations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only when he finally stops speaking that Lavi realizes no one was listening in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Whimper

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [23emotions](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/23emotions) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Ellipsism (n.): a sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.
> 
> The poem that Lavi is quoting from is called "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Elliot  
> Now normally I'm not a big T.S. Elliot fan, but even I thought _"Wow, this would be absolutely perfect"_.  
>  The full version can be found here: http://www.shmoop.com/hollow-men/poem-text.html

_"We are the hollow men_  
_We are the stuffed men_  
_Leaning together_  
_Headpiece filled with straw."_  

Lavi's voice echoed in the empty hallways, his shoes clacking with a hollow sound as he whispered the lines dancing before his good eye. Red hair strewn messily over his bandanna and fingers restlessly slipping the little hammer in and out of its holster at his hip, Lavi was lost. Not physically--his internal compass and photographic memory would never let him forget where he was. In the ruins of the Black Order's first headquarters. It was a mess, for sure, but he would never forget this place, would always have the feeling of dust beneath the ridge of his nails when he closed is eyes. No, Lavi was lost in spirit. This place that was so quiet, so empty, had nothing left of them. Krory, Miranda, Kanda, Allen, Daisya, Marie, Komui, Lenalee. Not a trace of their existence anywhere.

They were still alive, moved headquarters without issue only to find the castle destroyed as soon as they were gone. Their home, gone. Not much of one, to be honest, but still a place where they lived, where they were together. Lavi wasn't supposed to form relationships with anybody but there was still an aching in his chest when he thought of his fellow exorcists disappearing, as so many already had. Who would remember them, except he and Bookman? He closed his eyes, voice whispering through broken walls.

_"Those who have crossed_  
_With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom_  
_Remember us—if at all—not as lost_  
_Violent souls, but only_  
_As the hollow men_  
_The stuffed men."_  
  
He was the keeper of history, guardian of the past. His head held so many secrets that sometime's Lavi thought he dripped words instead of blood. If only he weren't human. It was his duty and honor to carry the past, but these emotions, this attachment, was a curse. How was he expected to stand alongside these people, the ones who put their lives on the line for a dream that might never be realized, and remain impartial? How could he share in their tears and their laughter and their fear and their joy, and simply record it in his mind like a novel? He was never given any answers. After all, it was his role to hunt out the puzzle pieces.

_"This is the dead land_  
_This is cactus land"_

The wind felt so cold. Lavi stopped walking, barely able to get out the next lines. Everything would be forgotten. What value was there in stories only he and Bookman knew? There was nobody watching them, no memory to hold them. What would be waiting for them when their purpose disappeared? How could exorcists exist when there was nothing left but stories his fingers couldn't hold?  
  
_"Is it like this_  
_In death's other kingdom_  
_Waking alone"_

Why was he crying? There were not supposed to be any tears left in him. His mouth was wet but throat dry, tight and burning. Even when he tried to breathe his tongue caught the air and spit it out again, left him gasping on the ground and so hollow

so hollow

He swallowed to take in the world and was left with nothing more than paper in his mouth, words crumbling to melt into his bloodstream and leave dust upon his fingertips. His hand fumbled with the tiny hammer at his waist and it fell to the rocks, pale skin scraping against stone as fingers scrabbled to pick up the Innocence

protect the Innocence  
protect their _innocence_

_"There are no eyes here_  
_In this valley of dying stars"_  
  
When he tripped over his fingers to tuck the tiny hammer away he found speckles of red on the ground, and held his palm to the light, watching liquid as red as his hair pool in his palm and drip...drip...drip...

It was a wonder he still bled blood, instead of words.

_"Between the idea_  
_And the reality_  
_Between the motion_  
_And the act_ _"_

There was no in between. He held so much history, so much knowledge, and yet he could not help them. The present is the key to the past, but the past is not the key to the future.

_"Between the conception_  
_And the creation_  
_Between the emotion_  
_And the response_ _"_

A cross between a sob and a laugh tore it's way from his throat, and Lavi raised his hand to the sky, looking at the way his blood fell too slowly to be real. Life was so short, he would never see all of it. He would die someday, not for a long while, but before this war ended, he would be gone. Lavi felt it in his bones, the way his shadow stretched across the ground, the way his joints ached with every jarring step. Why was he so looking forward to a future he would never see?

_"Between the potency_  
_And the existence_  
_Between the essence_  
_And the descent"_  
  
The wind was blowing now, sweeping through his hollowed ribcage and whistling in his ears. This empty castle that had been so quiet now wailed and Lavi pulled his hands from the sky to cover his ears. The screaming was so loud, he could hear them screaming and wished it was quiet because for all his memory he couldn't remember what laughter sounded like. What life was like before this war. He clung to the past because it was all he had left and he prayed to God that those people, those exorcists, would see the future, wished that he could tell what was waiting for them, read it like a book from the recesses of his mind, but   
  
_This is the way the world ends_  
_This is the way the world ends_  
_This is the way the world ends_  
_Not with a bang but--_

**Author's Note:**

> So...this was meant to be just Lavi being a whiny brat in the new HQ about how he didn't know enough and it was unfair that he couldn't see the future. Obviously that's not what happened when I started. My inability to write fluff takes over once again...


End file.
